


Something Is Rotten in the State of Lawndale

by KristenBealer



Category: Daria (Cartoon)
Genre: Comedy, Crossover, Gen, Humor, Parody, Shakespeare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 08:54:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KristenBealer/pseuds/KristenBealer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vengeance! Swordfighting! Self-esteem workshops! Daria must avenge her father's death, but there's less murder and more silliness in this parody of Shakespeare's 'Hamlet.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Is Rotten in the State of Lawndale

 Daria Hamletdorffer trudged down the stairs, feeling melancholy. Part of her unhappy mood came from the dreariness of the evening. Part of her unhappy mood came from being saddled with a last name like "Hamletdorffer." Most of her unhappy mood, however, came from her father's recent death from food poisoning.

She reached the first floor and turned toward the kitchen. _The same kitchen where he died_ , a sad voice at the back of Daria's brain reminded her. _And the same kitchen where Mom has set up the newest branch of Vitale, Davis, Horowitz, Riordan, Schrecter, Schrecter, and Schrecter_ , an angry voice at the front of her brain added. _Emphasis on one specific "Schrecter."_

Daria entered the kitchen, then stopped in surprise. Eric, the Schrecter in question, sat at the kitchen table with Helen as they studied and discussed various legal documents scattered in front of them. Daria wasn't surprised to see this--she'd seen the same thing almost every night in the weeks since Jake's death.

The surprise came in the form of Timothy Poneillius, one of her high school teachers. He was leaning against the kitchen counter in what he probably thought was a relaxed and "hip" pose. It wasn't.

"Good evening, Daria," Poneillius said soothingly. "Your mother asked me to come over and talk to you about, um, stuff. She's very concerned about you."

"Dammit!" Helen suddenly called out. "Now Dope-on-a-Rope is trying to say it isn't their fault? Our client injured himself bungee jumping at their facility. It's a clear-cut case of negligence!"

Daria rolled her eyes. "Yes, she's just overflowing with motherly concern."

Poneillius stepped over to the table and placed a hand on Helen's shoulder. "Mrs. Hamletdorffer, I--"

"What?" she demanded, turning her annoyance on the stuttering teacher.

"I was just telling your daughter how concerned we are about her."

"Who?" Helen asked in confusion before registering her surroundings. "Oh! Absolutely, Daria. We're all very worried about you."

"Mm-hmm," Eric agreed, taking advantage of Helen's momentary distraction to try to peek down the front of her blazer.

Poneillius resumed his "hip" pose at the counter. "Now, your mother says that you've been acting sort of 'bummed out,'" he explained, using finger quotes as he spoke, "and she asked me to come and see if you needed to 'rap' with someone about your feelings over your father's...passing."

"You mean his death?" Poneillius flinched at the word, and Daria frowned. "In other words, my mother is so busy drowning in paperwork that she recruited someone else to make the effort to find out why I'm depressed." She looked at all three of the adults in the room. "And it shouldn't be that hard to figure out. What daughter _wouldn't_ be depressed after her father died?"

"So I said, 'No way! You expect me to ride in a car without a visor mirror?' I mean, some guys just don't understand priorities, you know?" Daria's sister Quinphelia wandered into the kitchen with a phone held to her ear, oblivious to the conversation going on around her. "Uh huh," she said after a pause. "Definitely blacklisted from my dating roster."

"Okay," Daria sighed. "What _other_ daughter wouldn't be depressed?"

Poneillius stood in front of Quinphelia to get her attention. "I was wondering if--" She waved him off and turned away. He tried again. "Excuse me, but--" Once again, she ignored him.

"Quinphelia." Helen stood up and crossed her arms.

Seeing her mother's glare, Quinphelia said into the phone, "GottagoSandiI'llcallyoubacklater," and hung up.

Relieved, Poneillius smiled condescendingly at her and said, "I'd like to talk to you about something I'm sure has been on your mind quite a lot lately."

Quinphelia tilted her head, confused. "You want to talk about dating?"

He shook his head, "No, no, I mean your parents."

She tilted her head in the other direction. "Mom's dating again already?"

Eric brightened at the new direction the conversation had taken.

"Don't be ridiculous, Quinphelia!" Helen exclaimed. "You know I'm not going to be ready to date again for a very long time, if ever."

Eric deflated like a hot air balloon after someone had ripped it open with their teeth.

Poneillius desperately tried to regain control of the situation. "I'd like to have a long, frank discussion about everyone's feelings--"

A frantic knocking at the door startled everyone. "Who could that be?" Quinphelia asked.

"I don't care," Daria replied, heading into the living room to answer it. "It's a way out of this conversation, and I'm grabbing it with both hands."

She opened the door to see a trio of frightened-looking boys standing in front of her. "Quinphelia," she called. "You've got three Js and no waiting!"

"Four Js," a voice corrected as the boys pushed past Daria, white-faced and shaking, to reveal a smirking Janatio.

Daria raised an eyebrow. "I haven't seen those three so frightened since Quinphelia made them go shoe shopping with her. What did you do?"

"It wasn't me," Janatio replied. "It was the ghost."

"Oh, okay then," Daria said with a nod. Then she stopped. "No, actually, you're going to have to repeat that for me."

"Ghost. Starts with a 'g' and rhymes with 'toast.'"

"Janatio, what have I told you about those all-night _Scooby Doo_ marathons?"

"I'm serious. Come and see for yourself if you don't believe me."

"All right," Daria said with a shrug. "But if this is Trent with a sheet over his head..." She stepped outside and walked with Janatio onto the lawn. Looking at her friend, Daria asked, "Which ghost am I looking at? The neighbors' trash can or the minivan across the street?"

"Hold on a second," Janatio insisted. "The ghost kind of comes and goes."

"Yeah, the dead must get terrible reception." Before she could say anything else, a partly-transparent form materialized in front of her.

"Eep!" Daria exclaimed.

"Ooo!" the ghost moaned.

"Ahh!" Daria shrieked.

"Gah!" the ghost cried.

"Dad?" Daria asked.

"Kiddo?" the ghost replied, moving closer until she recognized the less-substantial-but-still-familiar form of Jake Hamletdorffer. "Hey, sorry I scared you. I thought you were your mother."

"Uh, that's--that's...okay," Daria stammered. Shaking her head for a moment, she began to recover from her shock. "All right, I'm not going to mess around with the 'But you're dead!' crap, so why don't you just tell me what's going on...and why you want to scare Mom to death." She winced. "Uh, no pun intended."

Janatio looked from the ghost of Jake to Daria and back again. "I should leave you two alone. This seems like life-or-death family stuff." As she headed into the house, she called over her shoulder, "That pun _was_ intended."

After the door closed, Daria and the ghost of Jake stood and wafted awkwardly in silence for a few moments. At last Daria said, "So, you're dead."

"Yup."

"But still around, haunting the world of the living."

"Yup."

"Any particular reason why?"

"Yup." Realizing that his daughter was waiting for him to elaborate, Jake continued, "I've come to ask you to avenge my death."

Daria gasped. "Avenge...you mean you were murdered?" She narrowed her eyes in understanding. "Of course. I should have realized sooner." She shook her head in disgust. "It was never an accidental death." Daria's voice was growing angrier and more confident as she spoke. "Somebody poisoned that kitchen sink stew, didn't they?"

Jake waved his hands to stop her. "No, Daria, that's not what happened at all. You see," he said, leaning in closer and lowering his voice, "I'm actually not as good of a cook as everyone thought." He smiled sheepishly. "I know it must be a shock, but I really did screw up the recipe and cause my own death."

"I'll, uh, try to live with my shattered illusions," Daria replied. "But if you weren't poisoned, then what the hell am I supposed to avenge? And who is the, er...avengee?"

"Helen," he answered angrily.

"You're asking me to kill my own mother?" Daria asked in shock.

"Gah! Dammit, Daria!" Jake yelped. "How could you even think about killing your mother? Young lady, if I wasn't dead I would ground you this minute!"

With a sigh, Daria asked, "Okay, then. What exactly do you want me to do?"

"You have to make her lose the lawsuit she's been working on lately."

"Lose a case? I think she'd prefer I killed her."

"This is important, Daria," Jake pleaded. "Your mother's obsession with that case is the reason I'm dead now!"

"Huh," Daria commented. "I always figured Mom would work _herself_ to death one day, but I never expected her to take anyone else down with her."

Jake sighed. "Helen was too busy talking on her cell phone to notice when I collapsed in the kitchen that day. She was so preoccupied by the lawsuit that by the time she noticed and called 911, it was too late!" He waved his arms in the air and wailed, "Tooooo laaaaate!" in an eerie voice.

Daria rolled her eyes. "Stop that."

"Sorry," he replied. "But ghostly wailing is a great stress release. You ought to try it."

"Maybe later. So, you're mad at Mom for being too wrapped up with work to notice you were dying. And it probably only made things worse when she left your funeral early for a court appointment."

"She skipped my _funeral_??" Jake cried. "How could she--That's just--I don't _believe_ \--!" Already fairly insubstantial, Jake's image grew even fuzzier as his frustration grew.

"Uh, this might be a good time for some of that wailing," Daria suggested nervously.

Jake came back into focus as he calmed himself down. "I'm okay! Now that I'm dead, I don't have to worry about my blood pressure anymore. But this is even more reason you have to make your mother lose the case. Not just to avenge me, but to force her to get her damn priorities straight!"

Daria nodded. "And if I do that, then you'll finally be able to find peace in the afterlife?" she asked.

"Peace? Are you kidding? With 'Mad Dog' dead and Corporal Ellenbogen on his third pacemaker?" Jake scowled. "No peace for poor Jakey! No, sir, not even in death!"

"Well, on the bright side, you'll be reunited with all those goldfish Quinphelia and I had when we were kids," she pointed out.

"Hey, yeah!" Jake said, brightening up. "Thanks, Kiddo!"

"No problem," Daria replied as the ghost of her father faded away.

The door opened and Janatio poked her head outside. "Still having a heart-to-heart with Casper?" she asked.

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Janatio," Daria replied, "than are dreamt of in your cheesy Saturday morning cartoons."

Janatio stepped aside to let Daria in, then followed her into the house. Before Daria could close the door, though, Quinphelia's three-man fan club filed out.

"Gawd," Quinphelia said, reclined on a living room chair. "Can you believe those guys actually believe there's a ghost outside? Some people are just so, so...superficial!"

"I think you mean superstitious," Janatio suggested.

Daria watched her sister examine her nails for even the most miniscule imperfection, then rolled her eyes. "Who says they can't be both?"

"Whatever," Quinphelia said. "I mean, how can there be a ghost outside? It's not a full moon!"

"I think you mean werewolves," Janatio added.

"No," Daria argued. "Werewolves fly on broomsticks in search of brains so they can drain them of blood. Except when they're too busy searching for pots of gold."

Quinphelia made a face. "Why would anyone want the blood of a brain? It'd be all boring and unpopular. Plus all those depressing brainy thoughts would leak in and make them watch educational shows all the time."

"I think you mean..." Janatio shook her head. "Never mind; I've got nothing."

Daria glared at her sister. "Quinphelia, what would you say if I told you that there _was_ a ghost outside? And that it was the spirit of our late father? And that he's come back to make me swear vengeance on our apathetic mother for her indifference?"

Quinphelia looked up from searching her hair for split ends. "What's with you?" she asked. "Did you, like, hit your head and become even less normal than usual?"

Before Daria could respond, Poneillius entered from the kitchen. "How nice!" he said brightly. "You invited a friend over to join our little support group."

Seeing the disgusted look on Janatio's face, Daria shook her head. "Oh, she's not really here," she explained. "She's just an imaginary friend."

Poneillius blinked a few times. "But...I can see her."

Daria nodded. "Yes, she's been practicing very hard. But you'll have to excuse us. We're late for a very important imaginary meeting." With that, she ushered Janatio upstairs and away from the guru wannabe.

As the two girls disappeared from view, Poneillius turned his attention to Quinphelia. "Has your sister always believed in, um, imaginary friends?" he asked with concern.

Quinphelia wrinkled her nose. "Don't listen to her; she's just weird." Then she looked up, thinking. "Well, there is that blood-sucking brain ghost she thinks she saw."

"Blood-sucking...brain...ghost..." Poneillius began to repeat before ending in a confused stutter. "Oh, dear. This doesn't sound good at all." He walked back to the kitchen, where Helen and Eric were still engrossed in their work. He cleared his throat loudly and said, "Mrs. Hamletdorffer, I'm afraid we might have a problem." No response. "Mrs. Hamletdorffer?" Still nothing. "This is really important, and I think you'll want to--"

With a sigh, Quinphelia stood up and entered the kitchen behind him. "Mom, Aunt Rita called and said her last boyfriend just dumped her and she's completely broke because Grandma cut her off."

Helen's head whipped around to stare at her daughter, eyes wide with joy. "Really?"

"No."

Helen's face fell, but Poneillius grabbed his opportunity. "But since I--we--have your attention, there's something we need to discuss about Daria." He turned to Quinphelia. "Why don't you tell her what Daria said to you earlier?"

"You mean the brain ghost thing or the other thing?"

Confused, Poneillius asked, "What's the other thing?"

Quinphelia frowned, trying to remember, before replying, "She said that Daddy had school spirit, but he was late. Then she said that he made her swear at vegans and that Mom was pathetically different."

Poneillius tsked at this. "I'm afraid it sounds like Daria's having a hard time getting over her grief," he said. "Clearly she's, er, a little confused right now."

"You mean she's completely freaking nuts," Quinphelia muttered.

"Now, no one is saying _that_ ," Poneillius replied, a little too quickly. "But it's possible that this has something to do with her low self-esteem. In fact, she might benefit from a little peer counseling. I know a couple of students that might be able to help her adjust to the recent changes she's been going through."

Helen's cell phone rang at that moment. Waving Poneillius away, she said, "Fine, whatever you think will help," before answering it. Poneillius and Quinphelia left the kitchen, followed by cries of, "So what if Dope-on-a-Rope warned him against bungee jumping while intoxicated? He still did it, and that makes them liable!"

  
  


The next morning, Daria and Janatio walked the halls of Lawndale High in thoughtful silence. Daria was thinking about the ghost of her father and the weight of responsibility he had settled upon her shoulders. Janatio was thinking about coffee and how pathetically little of it she'd had so far.

"Uh, Daria?" There was no mistaking that obnoxious voice. Daria and Janatio turned to see Rosenkevin standing behind them, along with his girlfriend Brittanstern. "Mr. Poneillius asked us to, like, talk to you and stuff."

Brittanstern gave Janatio a pointed look. "Alone."

Janatio smirked. "Oh, don't worry. I'm not really here. I'm just a figment of Daria's imagination."

"You're a what?" Brittanstern asked in confusion.

Janatio shrugged. "Well, it worked on Poneillius." To Rosenkevin and Brittanstern, she said, "I have to be here. I'm Daria's seeing-eye human."

"Ohhh," Brittanstern replied with a sigh. "Daria, you're blind? That's so sad!"

Rosenkevin scratched the back of his head. "So is that why you wear those glasses?"

Daria shook her head. "No, I just wear these to look cool."

He blinked. "But...you _don't_ look cool."

Brittanstern suddenly remembered their task. "We're here to help you with your self-esteem!"

"And what a wonderful job you're doing, too," Janatio remarked.

"Thanks!" she squeaked. Then, in her best "serious" voice, she continued, "So, Daria, what can we do to help you?"

"You can go far, far away," Daria muttered under her breath. Out loud, she said, "We have to go to class right now, but I'll be sure to find you as soon as I'm ready for the quality of treatment that only you two can provide."

As Rosenkevin and Brittanstern walked away, Daria added, "Well, only you and a strong dose of brain damage."

"Speaking of brain damage," Janatio commented, "did you still want to come to the Spiral's gig at McGrundy's tonight?"

"I don't know," Daria sighed. "I think I'm going to be pretty busy wreaking horrible vengeance on my mother over the next few days."

Janatio thought for a moment. "Well, you could bring her to the gig. What could be more horrible than subjecting her eardrums to 'Icebox Woman'?" She smirked. "Musical Revenge. Hey, I wonder if that would beat out 'Helpful Corn' on Trent's list of new names."

Daria considered this. "Hmm. You know, that's not a bad idea. Is the band going to be practicing at your house today?"

"For very loose definitions of 'practice,' yes."

"Good. Let's go over there after school. I just had an...interesting...idea."

Janatio raised an eyebrow. "'Interesting' in the sense of 'fun' or 'interesting' in the sense of 'unpleasant'?"

"Yes."

  
  


As they entered the Lane house that afternoon, Daria and Janatio heard what had to be either the thunderous final chords of a Mystik Spiral original or the band members beating each other to death with their instruments. The end result was the same, though: merciful silence followed.

The girls went downstairs to find the band preparing for their next song. Janatio held up a hand to stop them, and Daria spoke. "I have a request for tonight's gig."

"No way!" Max called out. "The Spiral doesn't take orders! We do our own thing, man!"

"I'm not asking you to play Boys 'R' Guys covers," Daria snapped. "I was just wondering if you had any songs about neglecting a significant other."

Trent frowned in thought. "Let's see, there's 'Heart Behind Walls,' 'Melt the Ice,' 'Backstabber...'"

"Don't forget 'Death Kiss' and 'Shards of My Soul,'" Nick added. "Oh, and 'Nothing to Lose.'"

"'Angel of Cruelty,'" Jesse chimed in, "and 'Love in Ruins.'"

"Did you mention 'Evil Demon-Spawn Hell Bitch, Why Don't You Just Drop Dead?'" asked Max.

Janatio whistled. "How did a band with so little motivation come up with so many songs on one topic?"

In one voice, all four band mates replied, "Monique."

"Ah," Janatio said with a nod. "I guess if Trent wrote a song every time Monique dumped him, you guys would have filled about fifty albums' worth by now."

"He _does_ write a song every time she dumps him," Nick muttered.

"Okay," Daria interjected, trying to keep the conversation on track, "but which one is the most effective?"

Trent thought for a moment. "'I Hate Your Guts' is kinda powerful."

"No, 'Burning in Hell' is better," Nick argued.

Max shook his head. "'Thrown Away' moved me to tears."

"So did _Bambi_ ," Nick replied, rolling his eyes.

"Hey! That movie is a classic!"

Hands covering her face, Daria interrupted, "Look, I don't care. Just play them all tonight, okay? One of them is bound to work."

Janatio looked over at her friend. "You still haven't told me what your plan is," she reminded her.

"The gig's the thing," Daria said with a faint smile, "wherein I'll catch the conscience of the, uh, lawyer."

Mystik Spiral began the opening bars of one of their many Monique-inspired classics. "You tried to throw me out like last night's junk," Trent sang. "I sat in a dumpster, smelling like skunk."

Janatio chuckled. "Plan B on standby, right?"

  
  


Poneillius was back at Hus Hamletdorffer again by the time Daria came home. "I'm glad you're here," he began. "I'd like to talk to you about--"

"Can't talk; secret mission," she replied as she headed straight from the door to the stairs.

Shaking his head sadly, Poneillius turned away and looked at Helen and Eric, seated in the living and oblivious to Daria's entrance and exit.

"Dope-on-a-Rope thinks that just because they had banned him from the premises and posted 'Do Not Allow This Man to Bungee Jump' signs, that somehow relieves them from responsibility? That's preposterous!" Helen had her phone cradled between her ear and shoulder as she flipped through various legal papers.

"Mrs. Ha--" was all Poneillius was able to say before he was silenced by a fierce glare. "Okay...Mr. Schrecter?" he tried, desperate for anyone's attention.

"Huh? What?" Eric said with a start, trying to look like he hadn't been staring at Helen's legs for the past five minutes.

"I was wondering if I might talk to you for a moment about Daria?"

"Who?"

"Daria. Mrs. Hamletdorffer's older daughter?"

"Oh! Great kid. Fantastic. Just like her mother," Eric said with a grin. Helen didn't even look up from her conversation.

"Yes," Poneillius said nervously. "But I'm trying to help her through some of her problems, and I'm afraid my peer mentoring approach doesn't seem to be doing any good."

With a glance at Helen, Eric raised his voice slightly. "Maybe she could use a strong male figure around the house. Like a new father figure."

"That's an excellent idea!" Poneillius exclaimed. The smug look on Eric's face vanished as he continued, "I'll try my best to be a good masculine role model."

Eric stammered, "Actually, what I meant was a role model that was part of her family. Or a future part of her family. Well, maybe not right _away_ , but given some time and a few dates, then see where things go..."

Poneillius ignored Eric's ramblings, seizing on one word. "You're right! Family is the answer! I'll talk to her sister and see if some one-on-one time will do the trick."

As Poneillius hurried off to begin the latest phase in his plan, Eric looked eagerly at Helen to see if any of his comments had caught her attention. She was still paging through documents, oblivious to everything but her cell phone. "I guess I'm just too subtle," he sighed.

  
  


Meanwhile, Daria was in her bedroom, deciding on which book to read. She had narrowed it down to either Herman Melville's first novel or _Bushido: The Soul of Japan_.

"Hmm," she mused. " _Typee_ or Nitobe. That is the--"

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone hissing at someone else from behind her closed door, "I'm going, okay? Jeez!" This was followed by a knock.

"Please enter through the door; all non-ghosts please open it first," Daria called.

At that, the door opened and Quinphelia entered, stumbling a little as though pushed forward. "Um, hi," she said reluctantly. "I was wondering if you wanted to, like..." Daria could hear urgent whispers coming from the hallway, but couldn't make out what was being said. "...spend some time bonding in a familial manner."

Daria frowned slightly. "You just decided that on your own, with no prompting from a...third party?" she asked.

More whispers. Quinphelia flatly said, "Yes. I thought this would be a good opportunity for us to form a deeper, more meaningful sisterly relationship based on trust and communication of a non-cont--non-cofront--" Even more whispers. "Uh, not-arguing-with-each-other nature."

While her sister spoke, Daria stood and crossed over to the door. With a smirk, she took hold of the door and slammed it as hard as she could. Ignoring the anguished "Eep!" coming from the other side, she turned to Quinphelia. "All right, what's going on?"

"Ugh!" Quinphelia said, rolling her eyes. "That teacher guy thinks you're, like, mental or something so he wanted me to come in and talk to you." She shrugged. "So, what's up with that, anyway? Are you just faking crazy so Mom will buy you stuff?"

Daria sighed. "First of all, I'm not crazy--faking or otherwise. Second, that's the kind of stunt _you_ would pull, not me."

"Right," Quinphelia answered, suddenly losing interest in the conversation as internal wheels began to turn.

"And third," Daria continued, "I wasn't lying when I said I spoke to Dad's ghost. He said--" She stopped. Quinphelia was staring off into space, lost in thought. Daria shrugged. "He said aliens from outer space are going to steal next week's shipment of Cashman's merchandise."

Quinphelia nodded. "Space aliens. Great. Listen, I gotta go, okay?"

Daria shook her head as her sister wandered out the door, ignoring a flurry of whispered questions. Moving quietly back to the door, Daria slammed it once again, this time prompting both an "Eep!" and a "thump" as someone fell backwards in surprise.

After a couple of minutes, Daria heard loud, exaggerated footsteps outside her door. She opened it just in time to see Poneillius raise his hand to knock. "Oh!" he exclaimed. "Er, I mean, I was just passing by and--"

"--And you wanted to make sure everything was jiggy or radical or edgy or whatever?" she asked.

"Well, now that you mention it--"

Daria narrowed her eyes, preparing to unleash a verbal onslaught that would hopefully put Poneillius out of her misery for a very long time. Just as she opened her mouth, though, she remembered her plan and decided the cream puff just might be useful.

"You know," she said instead, making her voice sound as pathetic and lacking in self-esteem as possible, "I could use a little family togetherness. I sure wish my mother would come with me to some event where we could bond with each other. Maybe something with music. Maybe something going on in the near future. Maybe something like, I don't know, the Mystik Spiral gig at McGrundy's Pub tonight at eight o'clock."

Poneillius blinked a few times, then recovered quickly. "Well," he said with a hopeful smile. "Maybe something like that could be arranged." With that, he spun around and hurried down the stairs.

Daria smirked as she shut the door yet again--quietly this time. "To an attorney, go," she muttered and turned back to consider her books.

  
  


"Hey, we're Mystik Spiral, but we're thinking--"

"Just _play_ , dammit!"

Trent glared, but began strumming his guitar. Sitting at a table at McGrundy's between Daria and Janatio, Helen eyed the stage and the mosh pit uneasily. "Are you sure this is a safe place for us to be?" she asked.

"No," Janatio replied. "But I've got some ear plugs if you're that worried about your hearing."

Any response Helen made was lost as the band's first song got underway.

" _I was standing in the kitchen,_   
_I was cooking something bitchin',_   
_But you never even noticed when I passed out on the floor._ "

 

Daria raised an eyebrow at Janatio. "That's...surprisingly accurate."

Janatio smirked. "Maybe I gave him some help writing the song."

"'Some' help?"

"Okay, maybe I wrote down the details of your dad's death and made him memorize it."

" _You were talking on your cell phone,_   
_I was gasping there on my own,_   
_And you won't see my face again 'cause I ain't alive no more._ "

 

Daria winced. Janatio quickly added, "But the lyrics themselves were all his doing."

" _Queen of the Harpies!_  
 _Queen of the Harpies!_  
 _The stain you left on my soul is as permanent as Sharpies!_ "

Janatio leaned forward to be heard over the band's shrieking. "I really want to emphasize that I had nothing at all to do with writing the actual lyrics."

" _Your hair is so black; it's black like your heart._   
_Your piercings so sharp, they keep us apart._ "

"Well, now he's just using artistic license," Janatio said with a shrug. "Honestly, can't he write just one song that doesn't ultimately revolve around Mon..."

Janatio trailed off as she realized her friend wasn't listening. She was staring intently at her mother, who had a strange look on her face. Suddenly, Helen jumped up and ran, nearly knocking her chair over in her hurry.

After a few moments of shock, both girls followed. "Wow," Janatio commented. "Who'd have thought your mother's conscience could be woken up by, of all things, a Mystik Spiral song?"

"I don't care," Daria said firmly. "I'm just glad it worked. Now that she sees what her mixed-up priorities cost her, I won't have to worry about making her lose the case."

Through the crowd, the girls saw Helen duck into the restroom. They quickly reached the door and burst through--in time to hear Helen exclaim, "Oh, so Dope-on-a-Rope thinks that posting armed security guards to prevent my client from entering the premises should have been enough to cover them legally? I don't think so!"

Daria groaned. "I forgot. For my mother, a guilty expression only means she can feel her cell phone vibrating and wants to answer it." She and Janatio watched Helen for another minute or two, but the closest Helen got to looking remorseful was when she realized she'd touched the doorknob with her bare hand when she'd entered.

"We may as well go back and enjoy the rest of the show," Daria said with a sigh. "I think she's going to be in the bathroom all night."

Janatio nodded. "That happens a lot at McGrundy's. But most people have at least a few drinks before it happens."

  
  


That night, Daria came home angry enough to punch through walls. When she saw that Poneillius was still there and waiting to "rap" with her, she upgraded from walls to kittens. He opened his mouth, but she spoke before he could even inhale.

"Say one word to me and I will throttle you until your head physically detaches from your body. Then I will kick your head through several windows and turn the rest of your body into a makeshift punching bag. After that, I will come up with something ten times more unpleasant than that to do with your remains. Understand?" she growled.

Poneillius gulped and nodded quickly.

Daria took the stairs to her room several at a time, distancing herself from Poneillius as quickly as possible. She was annoyed--but not really surprised--when she heard a knock on her door within minutes.

" _What?!_ " she demanded from her place on the bed.

The door cracked open. "It's me."

Daria sighed. "Come in, Quinphelia." The door opened the rest of the way to reveal her sister. "You're home from your date early, aren't you?" Daria asked. "It's only ten minutes past your curfew."

Eyes wide, Quinphelia waved her hands in the air. She looked like she was slowly swatting at invisible flies. "I don't like dates!" she said in an odd, nasal voice. "I only like reading and studying and, uh, other brainy-type things."

"Okaaay," Daria said. "Is this some kind of--oh." She groaned slightly. "You wouldn't be faking crazy as part of a ploy to trick Mom into buying you stuff, would you?"

Quinphelia winked at her sister, then continued, "No! Of course not! Now I'm going to burn all of my fashionable clothes and wear, like, polyester or something."

Daria frowned. "Did you come in here for a reason, or is your lunatic act just on tour at the moment?"

"Mom wants to see you in her room," Quinphelia said in her normal voice. Then she added, in her "crazy" voice, "And now, I'm going to go hang out at the library!" She left the room, still waving her hands around.

"Should I even bother talking to Mom at this point?" Daria asked herself. "She probably just wants some unpaid labor to help her file paperwork or something." She stood and began pacing the room. "On the other hand, I haven't actually tried the direct route yet. Picking at her conscience is one thing, but maybe I should just come right out and confront her." She stopped and reflected. "Except that Dad used to call her on that kind of thing all the time and it never did any good." Resuming her pacing, she continued, "But then again, it might have more weight coming from me, especially now that Poneillius has been pushing her to pay more attention to me."

Daria abruptly stopped pacing. "Enough. I'll go. Anything to stop me from talking to myself. I mean, what kind of nut just rambles on and on to no one in particular?"

Walking down the hall to her mother's bedroom, Daria knocked on the door. "Come in," Helen called from inside.

Upon entering, Daria saw that her mother was sitting on the bed with a stack of papers next to her. Daria was pleased to see that Helen wasn't actively reading them, but she couldn't help noticing when her mother glanced at them longingly from time to time.

"Look," Daria began quickly, "if this is about what I said to Poneillius--"

Helen shook her head. "No, I'm sure you were just expressing your anger over something else, and he was a convenient--although undeserving--target." Helen grimaced slightly before adding, "It's good to vent."

Daria rolled her eyes. She could hear whispering in the room, and a quick glance at the slightly open closet door told her all she needed to know. She took half a step closer to the closet and raised her voice slightly to make sure she could be heard. "I'm glad you understand," she said, speaking to Helen but keeping her eyes on the closet door. "But you should know that I'm not angry; I'm afraid."

"Afraid? Of what?" Helen asked, looking at the closet and then back at Daria.

"Bogeymen." Daria tilted her head, thinking. "Well, not just bogeymen. Burglars, stalkers, blood-sucking brain ghosts, and anything else that might be lurking somewhere in the house." She wasn't hearing any more whispers, so she smiled and continued before Helen could interrupt. "I mean, you never know what could be hiding, just waiting to jump out and attack, right?"

Helen now kept her eyes on the closet. "R-right," she stammered.

"But that's okay, because I've figured out how to stop being afraid."

Her mother's eyes flickered back to her, suddenly curious. "Oh? How?"

"I bought a gun. I keep it with me whenever I'm at home. Now I just go through every room in the house, checking every nook and cranny...and closet...for trespassers. If I were to find one, then all it would take is one pull of the trigger." She stepped closer to the closet and spoke even louder. "You know, I just realized I haven't checked your closet yet tonight. Why don't I do that now? Let me just turn the safety off and--"

She grabbed the handle of the closet door and yanked it open. Poneillius fell out, curled immediately into a fetal position, and began sobbing in terror. "Please!" he cried. "It's just me! Please don't shoot!" The rest of his speech deteriorated quickly into babbled gibberish until he looked up and saw Daria smirking at him, empty-handed.

"I suppose I could make a 'coming out of the closet' joke at this point," Daria remarked. "But a decision like that takes far more self-awareness than you're capable of."

Poneillius' face changed from shock to confusion to embarrassment in a matter of seconds before settling on barely-concealed anger. "I just wanted to help," he protested, trying to salvage whatever pride he had left.

"Then kindly get the hell out," Daria said coldly. "Soon would be great. Now would be better."

Smoothing his hair and clothes as he stood, Poneillius stalked out of the room with his head held high. The attempt at dignity was ruined by one of Helen's silk scarves, which had snagged on his belt and now waggled behind him like a tail.

"All right," Daria said as soon as she heard the distant sound of the front door slamming. "Can we have a real conversation now, or is Quinphelia hiding under the bed?"

Helen sighed. "I'm very busy, Daria. Please, just tell me what's bothering you and we'll deal with it."

"I find that hard to believe," Daria snapped. "Or can you raise the dead now?"

"You're still upset about your father's death. I understand that. But why are you mad at _me_? I loved him too, you know."

Daria glared. "Don't most people notice when someone they love is dying in the next room?"

"I was distracted," Helen replied defensively.

"You're always distracted," Daria countered. "In fact, this is the first time in as long as I can remember that we've exchanged more than five words in a row."

Helen sighed. "Things will be different once the case is settled."

"I've heard that plenty of times before. Quinphelia's heard that plenty of times before. Dad heard that plenty of times before he died. Do you really think we still believe you when you say that?"

"What do you want me to do, Daria? Lose the case?"

Daria just barely stopped herself from shouting, "Yes!" Instead, she asked, "Well, it wouldn't hurt you to focus a little less on work and a little more on family, would it?"

"After the case, Daria. Once it's over, I'll make time for you and Quinphelia."

Daria started to argue, but she recognized the look on her mother's face. She wasn't going to listen. _Even now, she's looking over at that paperwork. The second I leave this room, she's going to dive back into it._ "Fine," she said at last. "I guess we'll see where things stand once the case is over, then."

She turned and left the room without waiting for a reply.

  
  


The next morning was Saturday, but Helen still woke up early, dressed for work, and was ready to leave for the office before seven. Just as she finished pouring coffee into a travel mug, she heard a tentative knock on the door. She opened it to see Poneillius fidgeting on the front porch.

"Oh, hello," she said, glancing at her watch. "Won't you come in? I can't stay long, but I've got some coffee--"

"No! I mean, I'll just talk to you right here, if you don't mind," he replied quickly, peering behind her to see if anyone else was nearby.

"Daria's still asleep."

He stepped past her into the house. "Do you have any chamomile tea?"

Helen stayed by the door. "I'd like to make this quick," she said. "I'm running late for work, so...?"

Poneillius nodded. "All right. After some close observation and interaction with your older daughter--"

"I believe I mentioned that I'm running late?"

"I've noticed that Daria has been openly hostile to any attempt--"

"Even quicker, if you don't mind."

"Um, I thought perhaps it might be a good idea to--"

"Speak!"

"Self-esteem workshop! Oakwood! Two weeks!" Poneillius yelped.

"Paperwork?"

"Here."

Helen quickly filled out the forms. "There. This should give me some peace until after the lawsuit is over."

"And help your daughter adjust," Poneillius helpfully added.

"Yes, fine. Listen, I have to go. I'll let you fill Daria in on the details."

"Actually, I think it would be better if someone else discussed it with her. Perhaps you--"

Seeing that Poneillius wasn't about to leave any time soon, Helen tilted her head and pretended to listen to an imaginary noise. "Oh, it sounds like Daria's on her way down. I suppose this would be a good opportunity to--"

"I'll find someone to talk to her!" Poneillius cried, racing out the door. "Itwasnicetalkingtoyou!" he added as he threw open the door of his car and leaped inside.

"That man is ridiculously easy to scare," Helen muttered, closing the door behind her and striding to her SUV. "No wonder Daria enjoys it so much."

  
  


That afternoon, Daria relaxed on a couch in the living room, glad to have a mostly empty house. Quinphelia was home, but upstairs. _Probably trying to figure out what color straitjacket goes best with her hair._

As she flipped through channels on the television, she began thinking about Helen. "What am I supposed to do now?" she wondered. "I guess Dad was right--it'll take nothing short of losing a case for Mom to get her priorities straight."

Daria leaned forward in her seat. "Of course, Dad forgot to give me any ideas on _how_ to make her lose the case. What am I supposed to do, bribe the judge? Tamper with evidence? Get myself declared Supreme Ruler of the Universe and decide the case in favor of anyone whose name isn't Helen Hamletdorffer?"

Before she could get any further in her grumbling, the doorbell rang. Turning the television off, she stood and answered it. Then she wished she hadn't.

"Hiiii, Daria!" Brittanstern chirped, speaking loudly and slowly. "It's me, Brittanstern. And Rosenkevin is here, too!"

Rosenkevin leaned close enough that his nose almost touched Daria's and shouted, "I'm...standing...right...in...front...of...you!"

Daria flinched and stepped back. "No kidding."

"We wanted to make sure you knew who we were, since your seeing-eye human isn't here right now," Brittanstern explained, still keeping her voice loud and slow.

"My what?" The memory of her last conversation with the dim-witted duo surfaced, and realization dawned. "Oh, right. Because I'm blind."

Rosenkevin nodded, but was elbowed sharply by Brittanstern. "Oh!" he yelled. "I'm...nodding!"

"Thanks," Daria replied, hoping that the ringing in her eyes would one day subside. "But I'm feeling a lot better now, so I'm not quite as blind as I was yesterday."

"Oh! Good!" Brittanstern cheered.

Both teens continued to stand there, looking blankly at her. "Okay," Daria finally said, one hand on the door. "I'm glad we could share this joyful moment. Now, if you don't have any other disability-related business..."

"We're...here...to--" Rosenkevin began shouting before Brittanstern elbowed him again. He lowered his voice and picked up the pace. "I mean, we're here to take you to the workshop!"

"Look, I told you I'm not blind anymore. I really don't you need to bring me in for repairs."

"No, he means the self-esteem workshop in Oakwood!" Brittanstern said. She held up the forms Helen had filled out earlier. "You're all signed up and ready to go!"

Daria took the papers and peered at a flyer. "'Helping You Become the You that You Want You to Be, not the You that You Think You Should Be,'" she read with disgust. "Is Eunice involved in this?"

"I think his name is Poneillius," Brittanstern corrected helpfully.

"Let's go!" Rosenkevin said. "It starts today, and we're going to take you there."

Daria briefly considered which would be less enjoyable: spending time with Tweedle-Double-Dee and Tweedle-Double-Dumb or attending the workshop in Oakwood. She mentally declared a tie and decided her sanity depended on her doing neither.

"Actually, I'm afraid I can't go. I think I feel a relapse coming on." To drive the point home, she held a hand out in front of her and made motions like she was trying to reach them. "Are you still there? You're fading away."

"That's terrible!" Brittanstern said in horror.

"Maybe we should--I mean, MAYBE...WE...SHOULD...STAY...HERE...WITH...YOU!"

Daria quickly shook her head. "No, that would be a bad idea because, uh, it's contagious! If you stay around me too long, you might go blind, too!" She pretended to be unable to see the twin expressions of horror in front of her. "So why don't you two go and do whatever it is you do when you aren't harassing the visually impaired?"

They were already backing away. "Sure, no problem!" Brittanstern called out. "We'll see you later! I mean, hear you--uh, you'll hear us later--oh, you know what I mean!"

And with that, the pair jumped into Rosenkevin's car and drove away. Daria closed the door and sat back down, reaching for the remote. She immediately tossed it aside and groaned when she heard the sound of her mother's SUV in the driveway. She braced herself as Helen walked in the front door.

"Hello, girls!" she called out. "I'm home from work early."

"Home from work at four o'clock on a Saturday," Daria remarked. "How many people can say that?"

Noting her daughter's continued bad mood, Helen asked, "Don't you have some kind of workshop to go to?"

"It was cancelled due to lack of intelligence."

Before Helen could respond, Quinphelia appeared at the top of the stairs. Seeing her mother below, she quickly switched on her act and came down to the living room.

"Oh, hello mother," she said in her nasal "crazy" voice.

"Hello, Quinphelia," Helen replied absent-mindedly as she set her briefcase on a coffee table and opened it.

"I was just upstairs, doing lots of extra credit homework and other brainy stuff."

"That's nice." Helen was leafing through some papers.

Quinphelia glared slightly. "Next I'll probably read a bunch of really boring books and then call up my one loser friend to have an even boringer conversation about them."

"Hey!" Daria said, insulted at the direction her sister was heading.

Quinphelia waved her off and spoke louder, still trying to get Helen's attention. "I'm sure I'll be home all night, even though it's Saturday, because I'm so unpopular no boys are ever likely to call me."

"Excuse me--" Daria began to interrupt, but Quinphelia ignored her. Helen jotted a few notes on a pad as she read a legal brief, still tuning both daughters out.

Stomping a foot, Quinphelia hollered, "I will _make_ a dain _ty_ garland for my head _and_ sing!" Prancing around her mother, she sang, "La! La, la, la! La la! La!"

Helen finally looked up in surprise. "What on Earth...?"

Satisfied she finally had her attention, Quinphelia resumed at a quieter volume. "And being a brain and all, of course I'll need some really unfashionable glasses so I can look like an owl."

Daria crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, but said nothing.

Slightly confused, Helen looked more closely at her younger daughter. "Are you feeling okay?"

Now incorporating her hand waving to the act, Quinphelia was laying it on with a trowel. "Just fine, mother. In fact, I'm absolutely and totally sane, so there's no need to worry about me."

"Oh, dear," Helen murmured, paperwork momentarily forgotten. "Is there anything I can do?"

Quinphelia smirked for the briefest of seconds before she launched into the final phase of her plan. "Well, if I was crazy--which I'm definitely not--then I'm pretty sure a shopping trip with the triple platinum card would have me feeling like my own self again. But since I don't have any fashion sense or friends, I'm just going to mope around the house feeling sorry for myself and picking on my sister who I'm totally jealous of because she's so much prettier and more popular and--"

Daria had had enough. "Hey, Quinphelia. Stacy called earlier. Apparently Cashman's is having a big sale on halter tops and the whole Fashion Club is meeting there in ten minutes."

"Omigod! I've got to leave right now or Sandi will pick out all the best ones and I'll have to settle for--" She froze when she realized her cover had been blown. Helen shook her head at her daughters and returned to leafing through papers.

Quinphelia howled in frustration. "Dammit, Daria! Why'd you have to screw it all up?" Balling her hands into fists, she wailed, "All that work and preparation, and it was for nothing!" Furious, she rushed over to the door and threw it open before running outside.

After a moment, Daria looked at Helen. "Shouldn't we comfort her or something?"

Helen didn't look up from the page she was reading. "She'll get over it."

"We should at least tell her about that huge puddle in the driveway from the rainstorm last night."

Through the still-open door, they could hear a very loud "splash," followed immediately by a shrieked, "Ugh! God!"

While Quinphelia bemoaned the effects of muddy water on designer jeans, Daria closed the door. She turned and, seeing her mother still engrossed in her work, sighed.

"Mom--"

Helen lowered the document and glared at her. "If this is about my work, I believe we settled this last night. When. I. Win. The. Case."

Irritation gave way to frustration and Daria glared back. " _If._ You. Win. The. Case."

Although she'd been in the process of gathering her papers and briefcase to take them into the kitchen, Helen stopped at this and looked her daughter in the eyes. She didn't seem to like what she saw there, so she began, "What are you--"

She was interrupted by the front door banging open once again as Quinphelia lurched through it, dripping and still angry. Daria simply rolled her eyes and went upstairs.

"Well?!" Quinphelia demanded of her mother. "Aren't you going to, like, ground her or something?"

"God, I wish I could," Helen muttered, still shaken from the menace she'd seen in Daria's expression. Finally, her eyes focused on Quinphelia. "I mean, why?"

"Because she ruined everything! She ruined my best acting ever, she ruined a really awesome plan, and, worst of all, she ruined my _outfit_!" That last was uttered as an outraged shriek.

Helen was about to tell her she was overreacting, but an idea occurred to her and she smiled instead. "I'll make a deal with you, Quinphelia. If you can find some way to distract Daria during the trial, you can have your pick of the credit cards for a shopping spree."

Quinphelia's eyes lit up, but she frowned slightly. "What do you mean, 'distract'?"

"I mean, I want her mind on something else--anything else--other than my work. I don't care how you do it, just find a way to get her out of my hair, all right?"

After a moment, Quinphelia nodded as a smile slowly spread across her face. "I think I can do that."

Helen was about to ask what she had in mind when her cell phone rang. "Hello?" she answered, instantly forgetting about either daughter. "Look, unless my client broke the law getting into Dope-on-a-Rope...oh. Really? Okay, _even though_ my client broke the law getting into Dope-on-a-Rope, that still doesn't excuse them from liability!"

Quinphelia turned away, still smiling. "'Her mind on something else,'" she mused. "I think that can be arranged."

  
  


Later the following week, Daria was in her room, contemplating her hydrocephalic skull replica. "Nah," she muttered at last. "Too easy."

She was startled by someone loudly banging on her door. Without waiting for a reply, Quinphelia opened the door and stepped in, glaring at her sister. "We need to talk," she said. "Downstairs."

With a shrug, Daria got up and followed her down to the kitchen. Nearby, Helen leaned against the counter as she said into her phone, "Yes, the trial begins in an hour. Eric will be here any minute, and then we'll go straight to the courthouse."

Quinphelia sat down at the table and gestured for Daria to take the chair opposite her. "Muffin?" she asked.

Daria blinked in confusion before she saw that she was pointing to a plate of muffins in the middle of the table.

"I thought I'd try a little cooking of my own," Quinphelia explained. "You know, now that Dad's gone."

Reaching for a muffin, Daria froze and quickly asked, "You didn't use one of his old recipes, did you?" Seeing her sister shake her head, she picked up the muffin and turned it around in her hands. "So, I'm assuming you didn't burst into my room and give me the Glare of Death just to share a snack."

Quinphelia nodded. "I need rest at an institution."

"You've got that right." Daria reflected, then hazarded a guess. "Restitution?"

"Yeah. For ruining my outfit and for..." Quinphelia paused to think before continuing, "...emotional distress, trauma, and, uh, other stuff."

Daria sighed. "First of all, it wasn't my fault. Second, it happened a week ago, so that outfit is probably out of season by now."

"Don't try to change the subject." Quinphelia crossed her arms. "We need to settle this reasonably, like adults. May I suggest a fencing match?"

" _Excuse_ me?" The muffin halfway to her mouth, Daria froze and stared at her sister. "You want to settle this reasonably, like adults, by attacking each other with _swords_?"

Helen went to the refrigerator for a glass of juice. Still cradling her cell phone against her shoulder, she demanded, "Really, Marianne. I don't see how it's relevant to the case that the client never actually bungee jumped. Whether he hurt himself by jumping or by being tackled by several security guards after trying to climb the fence after hours doesn't matter; the point is he was injured and is entitled to compensation!"

"Oh," Quinphelia replied. "Is that what fencing is? I thought it had something to do with, you know, fences." After a moment, she offered, "Okay, how about chess?"

Daria dropped the muffin on the table and put her hands to her temples. "You do know that chess isn't the one where you 'king' the other player's pieces, right?"

Quinphelia shrugged and stood up to get a glass of juice for herself. "Okay," she finally conceded, taking a sip. "I guess we could hold, like, a debate or something." Before Daria could reply she added, "And yes, I know that a debate is the one where you argue back and forth about something."

"Trust you to know all about something that involves lots of talking," Daria said, biting into her muffin. "Seriously, is one outfit out of five billion really worth all of this hassle?"

"No," Quinphelia answered with a smirk. "I just needed to keep you here and distracted until you tried a muffin."

Daria stared at the muffin in her hands, having already swallowed her bite. "What, did you poison these?"

"Not exactly." She casually sipped from her juice again, dragging out the suspense as long as possible. "Do you remember those berries Dad found during that camping trip?"

"Ah," Daria said calmly. "So that's why there was a huge bag of glitter berries in the fridge."

"So what you probably thought was blueberries was really--wait, what did you say?"

Still oblivious to the conversation, Helen continued to prattle into her cell phone. "So, really, there's no doubt in my mind that we'll win this case. Certainly there's always the possibility that the judge will turn into a 50-foot-tall dragon and try to slaughter all the villagers, but then I'll just slay him with my trusty sword!"

Both girls spun in their seats to see Helen's dilated pupils. Quinphelia stuttered, "But she didn't have any muffins! I made sure! How--"

"Who do you think made that juice you're drinking?" Daria asked. "I'll give you one hint--it's not blueberry juice." She raised an eyebrow. "And it looks like your glass is already half empty. Or, by my perspective, half full."

Quinphelia dropped the glass, letting it shatter on the floor and spill juice everywhere. "But that's not fair!" she whined. "I was just supposed to keep you from bugging Mom about that stupid court case and I thought this way you'd be too distracted by, like, pink elephants or whatever to even notice!"

The doorbell rang. Daria went to answer it, leaving Quinphelia to stare at the spilled juice in wide-eyed horror.

"Yo," Janatio greeted her as the door opened. "How's everything going on the Scooby gang front? Have you meddling kids solved the mystery yet?"

"That's it; I'm confiscating all of your recorded episodes," Daria teased.

Before Janatio could respond, Quinphelia drifted through the living room behind Daria. "Pink? No way! You're just not slender enough to pull off such bright colors. You should stick to darker tones for a slimming effect. I think a midnight blue or royal purple would look much better on an elephant of your size."

Janatio silently watched Quinphelia wander upstairs, still offering fashion tips. "Okay," she finally said, stepping inside. "Your family is officially weirder than mine."

"Hallucinogenic berries," Daria explained. "Long story."

"Excuse me?" They turned to see Eric standing in the open doorway. "Is Helen ready to go?"

Daria looked past him to see a waiting cab, then smiled. "Yes, I think my mother is all set to appear in court. Hold on." She entered the kitchen to see Helen practicing her sword fighting techniques with her cell phone. Marianne's voice could still be faintly heard on the line. "Come on, Mom," she coaxed, ducking to avoid a sudden thrust. "Your, uh, horse is waiting. Time to face the dragon."

Helen immediately lowered her swordphone and smiled. "Good. Tell the townspeople their hero is coming."

"I'll pass that along. Just make sure you keep up your stoic façade until you meet your adversary in battle, okay? It's, er, part of your code of honor."

Daria picked up the plate of muffins and led her calm but twitching mother back into the living room. Setting the plate on a coffee table, she tossed a muffin to Eric. "Here. Something for the road."

After Helen and Eric left in the taxi, Daria shut the door and turned to Janatio. "Well, it looks like good news for Dope-on-a-Rope. And bad news for my mother's legal reputation. I'd say my father's dying--I mean, post-death--wish has been fulfilled."

Janatio looked at the muffins, then peered curiously at her friend. "You're even more devious than I thought. You actually _drugged_ your mother and sister?"

"They drugged themselves. I just provided the means. Besides, Quinphelia tried to do the same to me first. Fortunately, I only had one bite of the muffin and I'm pretty sure I ingested way too little of the berries to experience any kind of--uh, oh."

Daria lowered herself onto a chair as Janatio moved to her side, concerned. "Everything okay, _amiga_?" she asked.

"Remind me...never...to flaunt Murphy's Law...ever again," Daria muttered as she fought to stay coherent. "I can only hope...that this whole stupid plan works...because I swear I'm never...going to agree to avenge any more dead relatives...for as long as I live. And when I die...I'll do my own damn avenging. The rest...is stupid."

Janatio stepped back nervously as Daria's pupils became large and unfocused. "Daria?" she asked. "Do you think you should lie down for awhile?"

Daria narrowed her eyes and glared at her. "No time," she spat, her voice deeper and harsher than normal. "I'm way too close to infiltrating the Reds' underground network to rest."

"The...what?" Janatio reached a hand out to her friend.

Daria reflexively threw herself backward over the side of the chair, fumbling at her hip as she landed in a crouch. "Where's my gun?" she demanded, poised to attack with her bare hands if necessary. "You took it while I was distracted, didn't you?" Eyes watching every inch of the room around her, she growled, "Of course; I should have known. You're one of them."

"Daria, I don't--"

Daria snorted. "For a double agent, you aren't very smart. My cover name was Esmerelda, not 'Daria.' But I'm sure you've already figured out that my true identity is Melody Powers."

"Whoa." Janatio held up both hands and backed away. "Look, just calm down for a minute, okay? Let's talk about this."

"Okay, how's this for a conversation starter: give me back my gun and maybe I won't snap your neck like a dry twig."

Janatio opened her mouth to explain that there was no gun, there never _was_ a gun, when she noticed "Melody" was flexing her hands and preparing to leap forward. Thinking quickly, she grabbed the TV remote control from a nearby table and held it out to her.

"Melody" snatched the remote from her hand and pointed it directly at her. "All right, that's better. Now start talking."

Janatio briefly considered daring her to go ahead and pull the trigger, which as far as she could tell was the "mute" button, but decided it would just frustrate her friend further. "Anything you say, Melody," she replied. "If it will save my life, then I'll tell you anything you want to know."

"Where is the leader of the Underground?" demanded "Melody."

"Upstairs," Janatio said quickly. She pointed in the general direction of Quinphelia's room. "If you hurry, you can take her down right now."

"Melody" sprinted up the stairs, and Janatio flinched at the sound of a door being kicked open. An argument could be heard shortly after, centering on whether or not certain elephants were pink or red, but Janatio tuned it out and stepped over to the plate of muffins.

She considered it for a minute or two, then picked one up with a wicked smile.

  
  


Thanks to fans at the PPMB for feedback and comments.


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